Blake | 20 | Arkansas



honestly my favorite thing ive ever made in photoshop is catloaf


my graphic arts teacher hung it on the wall in the ga computer lab

(via mamadem)

You find some strange things in drawers that you seldom open. Physical forms of adolescent memories. Whoopee cushions and useless novelties scatter the top of the open drawer reminding me of how care free life used to be. A little more digging reveals darker memories. I find a notebook with messy scribbles pushed toward the back. Tattered pages filled with handwritten thoughts of a youthful Blake. I was a messed up kid, I think. I remember needing a place to write my “bad thoughts” because I was to scared to confess them to anything but a piece of paper. Self medication in the form of a journal. Reading my forgotten childhood thoughts reminds me that maybe life wasn’t as care free as the useless novelties. I had pushed these memories back in my head just I had pushed them to the back of the drawer. The words come together to reform the memories that I had thought I forgotten. Reading these thoughts now show how obviously I was struggling with my sexuality “When I went to the football game when I used the restroom they have urinals that they pee in they don’t have walls blocking people’s view well one time I looked. There was something else but I forgot it.” “Her boyfriend is harry. I looked at his middle and thought it was big. Then I thought what the heck am I thinking.” “I wished I was dead but I don’t want to be dead.” “…and then I prayed.” This journal even has the first time I’ve probably admitted to myself that I like boys. I wrote, “Oh, yeah I also think Im gay because I dont get a boner when I look at girls boobs but when I see a boy pecker.” Although looking back at these thoughts is almost a little humorous because it peeks into my prepubescent sexual thoughts (I called it a pecker, lol), but it also takes me back to a time when I didn’t know how to handle these kinds of thoughts. It’s tough to know that my most honest thoughts were only shared with a notebook, but it’s important for me to remember that this notebook was kind of like a friend. It couldn’t talk back or offer advice, but I always knew it would listen and not think any differently of me no matter what I told it. And that’s exactly what I needed at that point in my life.